


Have Yourself A Scary Little Christmas

by havocthecat



Category: The Addams Family (movie)
Genre: Canon Jewish Character, F/M, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2006
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-25
Updated: 2006-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-05 03:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havocthecat/pseuds/havocthecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted to <a href="http://www.yuletidetreasure.org/archive/24/haveyourself.html">Yuletide 2006</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Have Yourself A Scary Little Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [knightshade](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=knightshade).



> Originally posted to [Yuletide 2006](http://www.yuletidetreasure.org/archive/24/haveyourself.html).

"Scalpel." Wednesday held her hand out and stared at Pugsley, eyes dark over her surgical mask. "Scalpel," she repeated, her voice firm.

Pugsley sighed, tugged down his gray surgical mask, and stared resignedly at Wednesday. "Why don't _I_ get to be the mad scientist this time?"

"Because it's my game," said Wednesday. She looked down at her Little Tykes Vivisection Kit--now with extra t-pins for all your flaying needs!--and then glared at him. "Pull up your surgical mask and--"

"Children!" The dulcet, serene tones of Morticia floated up the stairs and into Wednesday's bedroom. "Time for dinner."

"Just a minute, mother!" yelled Wednesday.

"Now, children!" called Morticia.

Wednesday sighed and looked disappointedly at Joel, who was tied and gagged on an operating table in their bedroom. "And we were just getting to the good part."

***

"Come now, Joel," said Morticia, patting the table lightly. "You can sit next to Wednesday and tell us all about the fun things you did today while we wait for midnight. Tomorrow is Christmas, after all, and Santa Claus will be here."

Pugsley held up a shotgun. "Can we have venison stew tomorrow?" he asked eagerly.

"Your father and Uncle Fester are already waiting up on the roof," said Morticia indulgently.

Wednesday looked resignedly at Joel as Pugsley vanished. "He does this _every_ year," she said dryly.

"Do you cut up your campmates every year?" asked Joel. "Or am I just special?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Wednesday, her face deadpan. "I invited Amanda here last year for Christmas dinner."

Joel gulped. "And--and what happened?" he asked, eyes wide.

"Dinner!" cried Mama, pushing through the kitchen doors with a large covered platter.

***

"Time to open presents!" yelled Pugsley, bursting into the guest bedroom.

Joel bolted upright with a scream. His chest heaved with panted breaths, and he had the covers pulled up to his chest. "Pugsley, you scared me half to death!" he gasped.

"Cool!" Pugsley beamed at him. "If you stay the night again, then tomorrow I can scare you all the way to death!"

"Why wait until tomorrow?" asked Wednesday, crossing her arms as she stepped into the doorway. "Come boys. Mother says we mustn't keep her waiting."

Joel scrabbled on the nightstand for his glasses, then sighed in relief as they were handed to him. "Thanks," he said, slipping them on his face. He looked over and shrieked, his voice higher by at least two octaves. Thing waved at him from the nightstand, then pointed at the mistletoe over the doorway, and then at Wednesday.

Wednesday looked up, then glared balefully at Joel. "People say I take after my Aunt Cassandra."

Joel gulped. "What about your Aunt Cassandra?"

"Every man that kissed her went _insane_ and killed themselves," said Wednesday. "In the goriest, messiest, most painful way possible." She stood silently, watching Joel tremble, then turned and walked away, her shoes clicking loudly against the floorboards.

***

"And what did Santa Claus bring you this year?" asked Morticia, looking fondly at Pugsley.

Pugsley held up a plaque with a stuffed reindeer head on it. "The nose lights up in red!"

"Oh, how very wonderful, dear." Morticia shared a glance with Gomez, reaching over and patting him on the knee.

"Fester got in a few lucky shots," murmured Gomez, leaning over and whispering into Morticia's ear.

"And what did you get, Wednesday, darling?" asked Morticia.

Wednesday held up a box. "Santa gave me a Burn Your Village Witch At The Stake Kit," she said.

"Oh, isn't that lovely?" asked Morticia. "Wednesday, didn't you say that they were looking for new activities at your school?"

"There's a women's studies club," said Wednesday. "I believe we're covering anti-feminist activities of the Dark Ages next week."

"And what did Santa Claus bring you, Joel?" asked Gomez, pulling a cigar from his mouth.

"Santa Claus didn't bring me anything," said Joel. He looked resigned. "I'm Jewish. We don't even celebrate Christmas. I don't even know why I'm here."

"Can we play Spanish Inquisition later?" asked Pugsley.

***

"Why doesn't he ever shoot his eye out?" asked Wednesday curiously. She reached for the popcorn, her fingers brushing against Joel's, and they both flinched.

"I don't know," said Joel. "Why are we watching this? I don't know anything about this movie."

"Because it's a holiday tradition," said Wednesday. "I like holiday traditions. Also, the article in the TV Guide said that this movie was about a little boy who shot his eye out and went blind."

"Why are you always so morbid?" complained Joel. "Can't you just--just, give into the spirit of the holiday season or something?"

"Well, the dogs _did_ ruin the holiday feast," said Wednesday, sounding slightly interested. "That's something."

"They went out for Chinese food!" said Joel, pointing at the television. "Hey, I know that Christmas tradition!"

"Jews have Christmas traditions?" asked Wednesday.

"Just that one," said Joel. "Oh, and working on Christmas day so we can get Yom Kippur off instead."

"What's Yom Kippur?" asked Wednesday.

"It's the day of atonement," said Joel. He took another handful of popcorn and chewed. "We're supposed to suffer."

"Are there torture devices?" asked Wednesday.

"No!" exclaimed Joel. He frowned thoughtfully. "Unless you count the sermon."

"Judaism's no fun." Wednesday sighed. "Torture should have blood."

***

"There you are, Joel, there you are," said Gomez, clapping Joel heartily on the back. "Cognac? Cigar? Nothing is too good for the man taking my little girl to the Christmas Ball."

Joel winced. "My lungs hurt now."

"Nonsense, my lad, nonsense!" said Gomez. "Thing, a cigar for our guest!"

Thing leapt up and shoved a cigar in Joel's mouth." Joel sputtered and pulled it out. "Do you know what those things will do to you?"

"Cancer!" exclaimed Gomez. "My uncle went that way. His lungs were solid black when they did the autopsy!"

"That's thrilling," said Joel, grimacing.

"Have some cognac," said Gomez, pouring a glass and shoving it at him. "We can talk about the rules for when you take my daughter to the Christmas Ball."

Joel gulped. "R-rules?"

Gomez smiled toothily at him. "Now, Lurch will be driving you and Wednesday to and from the ballroom. You will have Wednesday home at precisely midnight. Not a second earlier, nor a second later. Midnight!" A gong clanged somewhere in the distance.

Joel jumped.

"Now, lad, if you hurt my daughter, we're going to have to have a chat, you and I," said Gomez. He poked Joel in the chest, his voice growing louder with each word. "If I don't hear she's had a good time, then there will be a _reckoning_!"

"Reckoning?" Joel's eyes were wide and his voice quavered. "What--what kind of reckoning?"

"Father, don't scare him," said Wednesday.

Joel's jaw dropped as he looked at her. Wednesday's black dress shimmered in the dim lights of the mansion. She wore heavy black eyeliner with dark scarlet, glossy lipstick. Her lips curved into a maliciously gleeful smile as she held up a roughly-hewn set of crude iron shackles.

"That's my job."

 


End file.
